My Roommate Used A Fake Lawyer To Evict Me And Got Me Fired. He Didn’t Realize I Found Proof His Girlfriend Had A Secret Apartment. Now They Owe Me $45,000.
Betrayed by Everyone
That evening, I’m sitting in my car outside a different coffee shop because I can’t face going home yet. I pull out my phone and call my parents. My dad, Ashton, answers on the third ring. I try to explain everything: the eviction threat, the fake attorney Harrison, now losing my job over completely made-up stalking accusations. My voice keeps cracking as I talk.
I tell him about the fabricated text messages and how Sienna must have created them to get me fired. I’m expecting my dad to be shocked or concerned or at least sympathetic. I’m barely holding it together while I explain the whole nightmare. There’s a long pause after I finish talking.
Then my dad sighs, really heavy, and says something that makes my stomach drop. He tells me they’ve been talking to Brock. I feel cold all over. My dad explains that Brock called them a few days ago. Brock presented himself as the reasonable one trying to handle a difficult roommate situation.
He told my parents I’ve been harassing Sienna, refusing to accept that she lives at the apartment now, making everyone uncomfortable with my aggressive behavior. My dad says Brock seemed very concerned about the whole situation. I try to interrupt but my dad keeps talking.
He says Brock explained how he tried to work things out with me, but I kept escalating and making threats. My mom, Deline, gets on the phone. Her voice has this disappointed tone that cuts right through me. She says they raised me better than to make a woman feel unsafe in her own home. She tells me I need to accept that living situations change and people move in together.
I try to explain that Sienna doesn’t pay any rent, that the whole eviction thing is a setup, that Harrison isn’t even a real attorney. My mom cuts me off before I can finish. She says Brock showed them the messages I sent threatening him and Sienna. She tells me they’re not going to support this kind of behavior.
I realize with horror that Brock sent my parents the same fake screenshots that Sienna used to get me fired. My own family thinks I’m the bad guy here. They believe I’m some kind of unstable person harassing this poor couple. My dad gets back on the phone and tells me they won’t be providing any financial help until I get my priorities straight and apologize to “those kids.”
Those kids. He’s calling Brock and Sienna kids like they’re innocent victims. My mom says in the background that she’s praying I’ll come to my senses. The call ends and I’m sitting alone in my car outside this coffee shop. My job is gone. My apartment is being stolen. Now my own parents have turned against me. Every support system I had is gone.
I drive to the public library because I need internet and I can’t go back to the apartment where Brock changed the Wi-Fi password. I sit at a computer terminal feeling completely numb. The next week becomes pure survival mode. I file for unemployment online but the website says it takes weeks to process claims. The form asks why I left my last job and I have to check the box for “terminated.” That probably means I’ll get denied anyway since it wasn’t a layoff.
I go to the grocery store and buy the cheapest food I can find: Ramen noodles, peanut butter, bread. I use my credit card because my checking account is almost empty. The card is already carrying a $1,500 balance but I don’t have a choice. I need to eat.
Back at the apartment, Brock and Sienna act like I’m invisible. They sit on the couch watching TV and don’t even look at me when I walk through. I start going through my stuff to see what I can sell. My gaming console that I saved up for last year. My bike that I barely ride anymore. Some old textbooks.
I list everything on Facebook Marketplace. A guy offers me $200 for the console and I take it even though I paid $400. I need cash right now. My former coworker Hank Gentry messages me on Facebook. He left the company last year to work somewhere else. He saw my posts selling stuff and asks if everything is okay.
I break down and tell him the whole story over Messenger: the eviction threat, losing my job, my parents cutting me off, all of it. Hank doesn’t question whether I’m telling the truth. He just asks what I need. He tells me about a temp agency he works with that places people in short-term jobs. They pay daily and don’t ask many questions about recent employment gaps.
He sends me the contact information and tells me to use his name as a reference. I call them the next morning and they have me come in that afternoon. The coordinator asks some basic questions and has me fill out paperwork. She says they can start placing me in assignments right away.
I start working whatever temp jobs they send me to. One day I’m in a warehouse loading boxes onto trucks. The next day I’m stocking shelves at a retail store overnight. Another day I’m doing data entry in some office building. The work is exhausting and the pay is barely above minimum wage. I’m making maybe $12 an hour when I used to make $22 at my real job. But it’s cash flow when I have nothing else coming in.
I work 12-hour shifts when they’re available. My body aches constantly. I come home to the apartment and Brock and Sienna are having loud conversations in the living room about when the place will finally be peaceful. They’re talking loud enough for me to hear through my bedroom door. Sienna laughs about how nice it’ll be to have the second bedroom as an office. They’re already planning how to use my room once I’m gone.
The Restraining Order Trap
2 weeks after losing my job, I come home from a warehouse shift. There’s a man standing outside the apartment door. He asks if I’m me and I say yes. He hands me an envelope and says I’ve been served. Then he walks away.
I open the envelope right there in the hallway. It’s a restraining order petition from Brock. The paperwork says I threatened violence against him and Sienna. It lists the fake text messages as evidence. Then it adds new stuff I’ve never even done. It claims I’ve been behaving erratically and making verbal threats in the apartment. It says Brock fears for his and Sienna’s safety.
There’s a court hearing scheduled in one week. A judge will decide whether to grant a temporary restraining order. I read through the papers three times trying to understand. If Brock gets this restraining order, I’ll be legally banned from my own apartment. I won’t be able to go home. I won’t be able to fight the eviction because I’ll be barred from the premises.
This is his plan. Create a legal crisis that forces me out before the eviction hearing where I might actually have a chance. I’m standing in the hallway holding these papers and I can hear Brock and Sienna talking and laughing inside the apartment. My credit card debt is past $8,000 now. I’m working temp jobs that barely cover food. I have no family support and no real attorney.
In one week, a judge might ban me from my own home. I stand there reading through the restraining order papers one more time and something clicks in my brain about the timing. The eviction hearing is scheduled for 3 weeks from now. If Brock gets this restraining order approved next week, I won’t be allowed within 500 ft of the apartment. I won’t be able to gather my documents, meet with any lawyer, or even show up to contest the eviction.
He’s not just trying to scare me. He’s trying to lock me out before I can fight back in court. I fold the papers and shove them in my pocket. My credit card statement shows $8,247 in debt. The temp agency paid me $96 yesterday for an 8-hour warehouse shift. The math doesn’t work anymore.
I walk down to my car because I can’t go back inside that apartment right now. I sit in the driver’s seat and pull up Craig’s office number on my phone. His secretary answers and I ask if I can come in tomorrow morning. She checks the schedule and says:
“Craig has 15 minutes at 9:00 a.m. I take it.”
The next morning I’m waiting outside Craig’s office at 8:45. My hands won’t stop shaking. When he calls me back, I sit across from his desk and lay out everything that’s happened since our last meeting. I lost my job because of fake screenshots. My parents cut me off because they believe Brock’s lies. Now there’s a restraining order hearing in 6 days.
Craig listens without interrupting. When I finish, I lean forward in my chair. I tell him I’ll pay in installments, whatever amount per month he needs. I’ll sign over part of my wages once I get stable work again. I’ll do payment plans, anything.
Craig closes the folder in front of him and shakes his head slowly. He explains that his malpractice insurance won’t allow him to take cases without the full retainer up front. It’s firm policy, not his personal choice. But then he leans back and gives me advice for free. He says to show up at the restraining order hearing with any evidence I can find that proves those text messages are fake. Phone records, anything that contradicts their timeline.
He says:
“Judges take restraining orders seriously, but they also don’t like being manipulated with false evidence.”
